Red Magic

Chapter One

"Ha! See her coming out of the pines
over there?" Christoph von Hagen, his hazel eyes narrowing, lifted a
muscular arm to point.
"Just as I thought.
She
went through the rocky thicket south of von Beiler's woods. Now she's angling
this way, the crafty vixen."

The red Arabian mare with the taffy colored
tail had begun a wild gallop across the pasture. The breakneck daring left no
doubt that a superbly confident rider was astride.

It was a game, a game played by young
aristocrats, a wild and dangerous game of Fox and Hounds. Several 'foxes',
given a head start, must reach the safety of a goal, riding across rough
country, while the 'hounds', rode after them in hot pursuit.

The well-to-do players wagered among
themselves on every possible outcome, but the prize for any fox who escaped was
the largest, particularly because it so rarely happened. Today escape was to be
rewarded with a spirited yearling colt.

"But," the speaker went on, a wry
smile on his handsome face, "no one will ever catch that whirlwind of hers
on the flats."

Christoph von Hagen and his cousin Max had
ridden fast, intent upon getting ahead of the hunt and setting an ambush for
the last uncaught 'fox' at a steep hill just before the goal. Sitting easily on
a powerful bay, Christoph was an Austrian nobleman in his middle twenties. He
was tall, erect, and, under the fine tailoring of his elegant clothes,
muscular. His dark, curly hair was captured in a black queue ribbon, and his
large eyes flashed with intelligence and humor.

Along with an exceptional body, men and
women alike agreed that von Hagen was good looking. Men described his face as
"open" or "forthright." The praise of the women was a good
deal warmer, tending towards the classical. "Like some pagan god" was
the phrase most frequently whispered behind fluttering fans at the valley's
parties.

Von Hagen's companion shaded his eyes with his
hand, trying to get a better look at the horse blazing across the flower dotted
green below. His more ordinary blonde good looks were diminished by proximity
to the dark handsome giant.

"Hers?
A female?
Riding like
that?"
Fox and Hounds
was
considered too
dangerous for the gentler sex. And wasn't this fox astride? Astride and wearing
trousers?

"The Devil," the smaller man
abruptly exclaimed. He'd answered his own question. "It's Caterina von
Velsen and her red Moroccan."

"And you know how well that rascal
rides." Christoph said with a broad grin. "Besides, there's not a
horse around that can catch that mare of hers over the flat, not even my
Brandy." One strong hand gave his mount's glossy, sweating neck a pat.

"We've got to get her, Max.
Right now."

As if he understood the urgency, the bay
stallion reared. In the next instant horse and rider were plunging down the
hill, showering earth and green grass behind.

"Christoph," called his
companion, hurriedly spurring after.
"The dike!
You can't go that way!"

If von Hagen heard, he paid no attention.
The big bay, black mane and tail flying, continued on course straight towards a
lethal looking heap of broken stone. It would have to be taken in one leap, for
landing atop it, would certainly break the horse's legs. No one had risked his
mount across von Beiler's dike in a generation. Max could hardly believe
Christoph would. Cousin von Hagen's horse was a rare Prussian, bred in the
stables of the warrior Elector Frederick, and worth a small fortune.

As he came parallel to the dike, Max reined
in to watch the impossible. First came the gathering of the powerful burnished
hindquarters of the Prussian, then the breathtaking leap as the bay tucked up
his high black stockings and rose skyward.

Max gave a whoop as giant horse and rider
flew over the murderous pile with all the elan of a bird of prey. The clean
landing on the other side led at once to a resumption of the same regular hoof
beat thunder, a relentless charge. Giving another sportsman's cheer, Max kicked
and used his whip, beginning a hasty circumnavigation of the dike.

As he rode forward, he could see the
hurtling fox—Caterina von Velsen—speeding on a parallel course. Her mare was
fully extended, never more than one foot on the ground. The girl's hat, which
she'd worn to hide her hair, had blown off and now her thick braid writhed like
a red snake behind her.

More riders, a troop, boomed over the hill.
Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Caterina knew that of two foxes, she must
be the only one left.

There was a momentary flash of triumph. The
yearling would be hers, and how proud Papa would be!

On the other side of the willow banked
river she could see the beginnings of the manicured grounds attached to the von
Beiler's Schloss. Anticipating the bridge—the goal, the ground on the other
side—Caterina's gaze swung ahead. That was when she saw a rider coming towards
her from an impossible direction, the other side of the insurmountable stone
dike.

"Gottesblut!"
Cursing was unladylike, but it was precisely what she felt. She had
at once recognized the big Prussian bay and his equally imposing rider.

Christoph! The only one with the horse, the
skill and the guts to try it…

Both horses thundered towards the bridge.
For a moment it looked as if they would meet head on. Caterina reined her red
mare hard. An impossibly sharp turn later, horse and rider plunged off the high
bank, landing with a huge splash in the river.

It was deep here, perhaps deeper than
Caterina expected, for it had been awhile since she'd been hunting around von
Beiler's. Her mount came up swimming. Swollen by a recent rain, the water was
rushing, carrying them swiftly downstream beneath the bridge.

"Come on, Star," she urged,
grasping the mare's flowing mane. The bank was lower on the goal side; the water
was shallower. It would be easy to get up. She could still win.

As horse and rider swept beneath the
bridge, there was a drum roll of hooves above and then an overwhelming deluge.
Caterina was still blind and gasping when a man's big hand came out of the
water and seized her braid.

"Got you!
Got you, Fraulein Fox."

"Ow! Let me go! You cheat!"

Furious, struggling with him in the water,
she let go of the horse and began to lash at him with her riding crop.

"Hey! Foxes don't carry those,"
he cried, wrenching it out of her hand. "And I didn't cheat. Brandy jumped
the dike fair and square." Firmly putting one big hand on the top of
Caterina's red head, he dunked her.

In the meantime, the mare had continued her
push to the bank. When Cat came up again, choking and sputtering, the first
thing she saw was Star scrambling out, her flaxen tail a darkened, dripping
tatter.

Christoph, so tall, soon found the bottom
as well. With an arm around his coughing quarry, he breasted the water. In
another few minutes, he dumped Cat unceremoniously onto the bank.

"Bully! You didn't have to drown
me."

Grinning, von Hagen threw his considerable
length onto the grass beside her. He was equally sodden, but his expression was
one of complacent satisfaction.

"You hit me with your crop, so I
defended myself. Don't be a poor sport, Caterina. You were a clever fox,
absolutely the best I've ever chased."

"Why did you have to come back from Vienna? And what are you
going to do now that you're here, tell Wili more lies and then let her down
again?"

"Scratch, scratch, fierce cousin
Cat." Christoph pinched her nose. "You know your sweet sister always
forgives me. Some day you'll fall in love yourself and then you'll be some
fellow's pretty toy too, Stork Legs."

"Smug.
Selfish!"
She launched a swing at him. "I'll never be anyone's toy!"

Taking advantage of aspects of the
situation which Caterina's innocence overlooked, von Hagen rolled onto his back
and allowed her to get astride. Then he lay there, laughing as he warded off
her slaps, whooping whenever she landed one.

As he teased, riders were pounding over the
bridge, a whole crowd piling in, out of breath from the wild pursuit.

"Did the fox cross the water?"
The question—for gulden and hunting dogs and dueling pistols were at stake—was
asked repeatedly and anxiously as each new arrival clattered across the bridge.
"No, the fox was caught by her red hair as she swam," said Max von
Beiler, who'd come around the dike just in time to see the watery drama of
Caterina's capture.

"A female fox?"

"Well, 'female' is debatable. It's
cousin Cat."

"Damn. I should have known.
Valkyrie and that red Moroccan."

"And so the red fox's papa owes me
five gulden!"

"Me too!"

Caterina, overhearing, stopped hitting the
laughing Christoph, jumped to her feet and shook a dripping fist.

"I'm a better rider than all of you
chicken hearts. If this lunatic hadn't jumped the dike, I would have won."

This set off a renewed flurry of
excitement. The late arrivals hadn't seen Christoph's feat.

"He jumped the dike?
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!"

"What a risk to take with the
Prussian!"

"Cousin Chris doesn't take
risks." Max gave his opinion. "He knew he could do it."

Debate was immediate. Had it been insanity
or luck? Had it been horse power, the expertise of the rider, or both? Ignored
now, Caterina stood, water streaming off her. She was red headed and tall. Her
eyes, green as bottle glass, blazed with fury. What would have been fair skin
if she'd been a more conventionally house-bound female was lightly tanned and
dusted with tiny golden freckles. Her budding womanliness was shown off to
advantage by a man's riding habit, jacket, shirt and knee breeches, all of it
plastered to her willowy frame.

Christoph, who had been admiring her,
decided to remind her of his presence. Seizing one of her long legs, he tumbled
her down again.

"By God," he cried, strong arms
locking around her, "Come here, Coz. I'd like to teach you to kiss as well
as you ride."

Howls of laughter erupted from the
onlookers as Christoph wrestled Caterina close. The whole time he kept
whispering that one little kiss wouldn't hurt, that "Your sister won't
mind." Arms locked against his formidable chest, resisting with all her
might, Caterina thought that Christoph was just doing what he always did-seeing
how far he could get.

As they tussled, witty encouragement was
shouted from the bridge.

"Give the skinny tomboy a
lesson."

"Just what our hell
Caterina needs."

"Yes!" Max was laughing.
"Kisses, a wedding and babies.
Then I won't have to
worry that she's going to show up on that winged steed of hers and lose me my
wagers."